When All Else Fails

Mark Lages

Description

What is the truth? It can mean so many different things to so many people. This is a book about one man’s literary journey toward the truth. It is his truth, and not necessarily yours. It might make you laugh out loud, or it might make you angry, or it might make you want to hide, or it might just turn your stomach. It’s a deeply personal book about a deeply personal subject. There’s a little something for everyone, and a lot to think about, and in some cases, maybe, much ado about nothing at all. Livened up with the author’s own hand-penned illustrations, it is surely an effort you are unlikely to forget.

Sujets

• Illustrations
• When All Else Fails
• Truth
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 24 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9798823004480
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS
 
 
 
 
MARK LAGES
 
 
 

 
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
© 2023 Mark Lages. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse  03/24/2023
 
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0447-3 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0448-0 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023905547
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1Who Am I?
Chapter 2In the Beginning
Chapter 3Just Say No
Chapter 4Faith
Chapter 5Greed
Chapter 6My Two Sons
Chapter 7The Man
Chapter 8Hip-Hop
Chapter 9Bad Guys
Chapter 10Good Times
Chapter 11A New Religion
Chapter 12Politics
Chapter 13Nature
Chapter 14A Fight
Chapter 15Slavery
Chapter 16Flies
Chapter 17Hell
Chapter 18Ernie
Chapter 19Sacrifice
Chapter 20A Loan
Chapter 21Regrets
Chapter 22Marriage
Chapter 23Pumpkins
Chapter 24Leonardo
Chapter 25An Open Mind
Chapter 26Dumb Kid
Chapter 27The Vote
Chapter 28Sleepover
Chapter 29Kids
Chapter 30My Niche
Chapter 31Warmongers
Chapter 32Psychology
Chapter 33Football
Chapter 34Young Prince
Chapter 35Cozmo
Chapter 36Nicholas of Cusa
Chapter 37Mouse
Chapter 38A Fable
Chapter 39Dave
Chapter 40Conflict
Chapter 41A Rant
Chapter 42Chores
Chapter 43Interlude
Chapter 44Age
Chapter 45Amazing
Chapter 46Achoo!
Chapter 47Hate
Chapter 48Plan 9
Chapter 49Adam Smith
Chapter 50Laughter
Chapter 51Cats
Chapter 52Love
Chapter 53Peanut Butter
Chapter 54Role Models
Chapter 55Sweetie
Chapter 56Gutenberg
Chapter 57The Toothache
Chapter 58Tolerance
Chapter 59Trees
Chapter 60Music
Chapter 61Feeling Good
Chapter 62The Beehive
Chapter 63Philip Glass
Chapter 64My Sixties
Chapter 65Norman
Chapter 66Entertainment
Chapter 67Magic
Chapter 68Dreams
Chapter 69False Ending
Chapter 70Paper Clips
Chapter 71Anger
Chapter 72Common Sense
Chapter 73Offended
Chapter 74The Curtain Falls
 
CHAPTER 1 WHO AM I?
A little voice inside of my head once told me, “When all else fails, seek the truth.” You are about to embark on a journey with me, but before we leave port, it’s important that give you an idea of who you will be traveling with. I’m going to give you an honest assessment of myself. It isn’t easy being honest. If there’s one thing human beings are good at, it’s lying to and about themselves, and I am no exception to this rule. I’ve spent an entire lifetime prevaricating and pulling the wool over my eyes, pretending, acting, living according to a fictional script I have written and rewritten a hundred times over. Now it’s time to climb out of the shadows of self-deceit I’ve comforted myself with over the years and expose my face to the sunlight that I’ve been so carefully avoiding. Witness all, Helios! I’m too young to say goodbye, and I’m too old to worry about fearing thee! Like David said when he faced Goliath, here goes nothing.
The earth has circled the sun sixty-seven times since the day I came into being. I was born in San Bernardino, California. I don’t know what my parents were doing in that town. It had something to do with my dad’s training; he is a medical doctor. I was born there, and then we moved to Boston. We moved back to Southern California, to Torrance. When I was five, we moved to Northern California, which is where I was raised. I have no memories of San Bernardino or Boston. I do remember just a few things about Torrance, but nothing of great importance. In Northern California, we lived in San Jose during my childhood and then in Los Gatos during my adolescence.
It isn’t easy to sum up one’s childhood and adolescence in just a few paragraphs, but I’ll try to do it anyway. So much of what we become as adults is the result of our younger years. It’s very complicated, but it’s true.
In San Jose, we lived on a street that we referred to as our block. There were lots of kids on our block, and we spent most of our time playing. There were the latest toys extolled to us by Madison Avenue, and there was basketball, baseball, and football. There were girls and boys. There were fences and trees to climb and kites to fly. There were rainy days to splash in the puddles and gutters and sunny summer days to play on our lawns. We all had bicycles, and the bicycles had baskets and bells. There were dogs and cats, and the kid across the street had a collection of snakes, which he kept in cages in his garage. I had a pet albino rat I named Ratsy. I loved that little rat. There were always parents to tell us all what to do, to mediate our fights, to assign us chores, and to teach us lessons. It seemed like there were always lessons to be learned.
What was I like as a child? I guess I was your typical little rough-and-tumble boy. I had confidence in some things and insecurities in others. My mom was a housewife, and she doted over me, leaving the heavy lifting to my father. He was the disciplinarian. I liked being a kid, but I also had my little miseries. I felt like all the other kids had things that I didn’t, which in retrospect was not true. And I was oversensitive. I tended to take everything personally, and when it came to myself, I didn’t have much of a sense of humor. If the subject wasn’t myself, I could make people laugh. I was pretty good at sports when I was a kid, but not extraordinarily good. My strong points were my mind and my creativity; I had a good brain and an active imagination.
In fourth grade, the kids in our school were tested for their IQs, and I scored high. My parents sat me down and told me about a special program for fifth- and sixth-grade students that had been developed for smart kids like myself. They gave me the pros and cons, and they left the decision to take part in the program up to me. I opted in, and so I took the city bus to this special class for two years. I liked the program. I made new friends, school was no longer so boring, and it was fun taking the bus. All in all, I can say that I enjoyed my childhood all the way up through seventh grade. I wasn’t always happy, but I was happy more often than not.
In eighth grade, we moved to the little town of Los Gatos, in the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains. It was a great little town, and I looked forward to the move, but it quickly turned into the move from hell. I didn’t know anybody, and I had no one to play with. And I was entering adolescence, which can be difficult for any boy. Eighth grade was horrible. I felt like an outsider the entire time, and I would spend my time after school locked up in my bedroom. I think this was the first time I experienced an actual depression, and my parents did everything they could to snap me out of it. But all I wanted to do was to be by myself, and I often fantasized about taking my own life, jumping out of a window at school, hanging myself, or opening the veins in my wrist. I never actually tried to commit suicide, but the thoughts were there. Finally, toward the end of the year, I made a few friends. One of them I’m still friends with to this day.
High school was better, largely because I discovered alcohol and marijuana. I felt more like I belonged. We had a lot of fun in high school, getting high, getting in minor trouble, going to parties and the beach, making out with girls, and lying to each other about our exploits. I maintained good grades in high school, with every intention of going to college. High school was filled with experiences, some of them good, and some bad. I was kind of a rebel, and so were my friends. I remember that I couldn’t wait to graduate, to get away from all the jocks and brains and nerds, to get away from all the stupid teachers, and to get out from under my parents’ thumbs. The one great thing to happen in high school was meeting my future wife, to whom I am still married, to this day.
I’m not going to tell you my wife’s name. In fact, I’m going to talk about her as little as possible. She doesn’t like being a part of the stories I tell, and I guess I can’t blame her. Besides, this story is about the world. It’s not about my wife, or our sons, or our parents, or my sister, or our friends—so I will try to leave them all out of it. This story is really about the world at large and the way I’ve learned to see it and deal with it as a sixty-seven-year-old man. Remember, I’m only telling you about myself to make your acquaintance before we begin our journey so that you have some idea of who you’re traveling with and where I’m coming from.
When I graduated from high school, I went to the University of Colorado at Boulder for a year. I was an art major. I spent more time there drinking and smoking weed than I did studying, but I still got decent grades. I missed my wife terribly, who was not yet my wife. After one year at Boulder, I transferred to Berkeley and became an architecture major. I was close